Worms are Hermaphrodites
by Mademoiselle Obvious
Summary: At the end of the last battle, two people meet and greet and take a seat. More stuff happens, and then there is an end. It is also Snarry, with some MPREG thrown in for good measure. Yay MPREG! No connection to the title at all.


**Disclaimer:** Yes, that's right. I'm J.K. Rowling. In my spare time, I just happen to write vaguely slashy fanfictions. Yesssssss. Of course I do. Please note the sarcasm.

**A/N:** Hello. I actually use the f-word in here. How absolutely delicious. Umumum...I just wrote this. It is now 11:04 at night. I haven't even re-read it. So there are probably lots of mistakes. Deal. With. It. I blame the craziness on the lateness of the hour. ...Also, it's meant to be funny...

AND! I've read LOVELESS volume 1. Woooow. /swoon/ Soubi has teh coolest clothes evah. /fangirl/ I just thought you should know that.

* * *

There was a flash of brilliant pink light, and then all was silent. 

A boy stood up unsteadily and blinked wearily before pushing his remarkably unbroken glasses up his nose with a smudged finger.

Throughout the battlefield—Diagon Alley, surprisingly enough—sound was slowly returning as witches and wizards dusted themselves off, picked up their wands, and then went back to their respective jobs and/or homes.

The boy blinked a bit and pulled out a handkerchief before blowing his nose. He tucked it away in a pocket and then watched as a tall, menacing figure stomped his way through the crowds.

"Is it over?" the boy asked.

The man jerked to a stop in front of him and peered down at the boy. "Yes, I suppose it is. What did you use? All I saw was some pink light…"

"Avada kedavra, of course," said the boy, "What else has that infamous color?"

The man nodded absently and ran his hand through his hair, pulling out bits of grit as he did so. "True…Want to go to a pub? I need a drink. Maybe two. Hell, I might even go for five!"

The boy hesitated, then looked up at the man. "Sure."

They stumbled over the corpses, tripping only a few times, as they headed for the nearest bar.

XxX

A few hours—and many drinks—later, Severus Snape was giving Harry Potter the grand tour of his set of Hogwarts' rooms.

"..And there," he said, slurring only a little, "Is the bedroom. Would you like to see _that_?" he added, raising an eyebrow in what can only be assumed was meant to be a suggestive manner.

Harry hiccupped and giggled. "_Snape's _bedroom? Ron would never believe it!"

Snape opened the door with a overly dramatic gesture which almost set him off his feet and waved his hand around. "G'on! I won't bite! …Unless you like it that way?"

He was disappointed when the seemingly endlessly naïve Harry Potter misunderstood his last remark completely and stared at his Potions teacher, just a wee bit nonplussed. "Whu…? I dun wanna get bit…"

Snape sighed and pushed the boy into the room. "Look Potter, I'm very drunk right now, and, actually, I'm feeling quite randy."

Harry squinted at him after looking around the bedroom in awe—Snape's bedroom, who'd have ever thunk it? "You're what?"

"I'm randy."

The boy scratched his head. "I thought your name was Severus, not Randy."

"…" said Snape.

"I mean, Randy's kind of a hick-ish name, innit..?"

"Not the _name _Randy, you nit-wit, the _adjective _randy!"

"The _adjective_? What the hell are you talking about?" asked Harry.

Snape sighed again. Nothing was ever easy with the bloody Dude-Who-Wouldn't-Fricking-Kick-the-Bucket. "…How about I use a syno…a sine…a…those words that mean the same thing as other words…" Harry looked confused. Snape pressed on valiantly. "I'm horny," he said, "And I want your hot bod."

"….Oh?" said Harry faintly.

"Yes," said Snape.

"…Oh?" Harry said, again, though less faintly this time.

"Er..yes…" said Snape.

"Really? Because I've wanted _your_, uh, hot bod, for quite some time!"

"Oh, this is quite groovy!" exclaimed Snape, "Shall we shag now?"

"Yes, let's!" cried Harry.

They fell upon each other like wolves, and then…Well, let's just say it, shall we? They fucked like rabbits.

XxX

It was a few months later (Ah, the wonders of time-travel…), and Harry and Snape—whom we shall now call 'Severus' because that is in fact his real name and makes him seem like a more human character; you know, more like someone Harry would actually date—and the two of them had been…ahem…acting like bunnies quite a bit in those few months.

So much, in fact, that even Dumbledore had tired of his spying and had gone back to molesting the ghosts (Don't ask me how. He is Dumbledore, he could find a way), and the other teachers—and even students—had long ago tired of hearing about just how 'damn happy' Severus now was.

One morning, however, the long-eared and fluffy-tailed couple woke up to an odd surprise. There was a child lying on the bed. Or, more precisely, a baby. Also, it seemed to be lying between Harry's legs. Harry thought this was a bit odd. Severus did, too, until his brain caught up with his eyes.

"Dear Dionysus in the bar!" he cried.

"What a quaint phrase!" said Harry.

"You were _pregnant_?" cawed Severus.

"I _was_?" squawked Harry.

"_Obviously_," shrieked Severus.

"…Oh my…" said Harry.

"…Indeed…" said Severus.

"Garghte," said the babe.

XxX

"What are we going to _do_, Albus?" asked Severus.

"Well, dear boy," said Albus as he stroked his beard in a seemingly thoughtful manner, "You should probably give her a name, and change her diaper."

"Hm, yes, that—WHAT?" spluttered Severus.

"How about Raven?" suggested Harry, "That's a suitably cheesy name!"

Severus sighed, and decided to give in. "Raven it is."

"Aren't you happy?" questioned Harry, "After all, you my baby's daddy! If you're not happy, _I'm_ not happy!"

"No, no, I'm really quite happy," as he said it, Severus realized it was actually true. Who wouldn't be? He had a job, a home, a boy he could—Hold up there, Sevvie, don't want to send a bunch of kids to therapy, do you?—well, fine. A boy he could do very naughty, very delicious things to (Which you won't ever know about. Aren't you sad? Don't you want to cry, or throw things, or flame the author? Especially for these annoying little notes from her in the story? Don't you?), and now he had a daughter.

"That's good. I'm happy too, Randy."

* * *

What think you, my mofos? If you want, review. Or, you can flame me. I've never been flamed, so I think it would be quite interesting. 


End file.
